


more than just a dream

by stilahey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bad Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Halloween, M/M, two losers hanging out on a balcony instead of enjoying the party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 13:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16476881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilahey/pseuds/stilahey
Summary: “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here.” The guy-maneki-neko mask guy- says.He doesn’t seem all that sorry, if the way he drags a plastic lawn chair over to the balcony edge is anything to go by. He smiles, lifting his drink as a greeting gesture before taking a sip, and Tsukishima turns away.Typical.





	more than just a dream

**Author's Note:**

> uhHh this is my first ever finished fic!! i'm sorry. 
> 
> (title from _[fitz and the tantrums - out of my league](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-QmZpLWjHc)_ )

There are probably around seven _billion_ different reasons that Tsukishima Kei doesn’t want to be stood in Kageyama Tobio’s living room right now.

Reason one: it’s Halloween night, and he thinks he could probably find something slightly better to do than _this_ , in which _this_ is waiting for two idiots to get ready for a party.

Reason two: having to listen to Hinata shout and scream is giving him a mild headache.

And reason three, although partly tied back to reason two: if he has to hear another single word uttered in this current “ _who’s your favourite horror villain?_ ” debate, he might go insane. The list goes on, and there’s only so much Tsukishima is willing to take.

Hinata jumps around the small room, waving his arms excitedly and pulling at the sleeve of Kageyama’s jacket as he babbles on about Cujo. Cujo. _Really_. Tsukishima thinks he can make out a smile on his face, contrasting a deep scowl etched across Kageyama’s, but mostly he just sees a blur of colours, all blending together to create two vague humanoid shapes. Above everything else, like wishing he wasn’t here, he wishes he could _see_.

“Tsukishima, stop pulling a face!” Hinata starts, and Tsukishima _assumes_ he points a finger at him, “we’re leaving in a second, so stop being grumpy.”

“For once, I’m not being grumpy, this is just how I have to _squint_ when I don’t have my glasses on.”

Tsukishima instinctively goes to push up said glasses but ends up bumping against the mask pressed to his face instead. He begins to fidget with the material, fingers brushing against the lace trim, and then lets out a slow sigh. How does he always end up in these situations?

Oikawa Tooru is hosting a masquerade-themed Halloween party, apparently, and Kageyama just so happens to be invited. For what reason, Tsukishima isn’t quite sure, but he presumes it’s probably to do with pettiness- something which Oikawa is often known for. Whether it’s purely to compete over who has the best costume (Tsukishima blinks blindly at Kageyama and guesses that Oikawa is going to win, like he does _every_ year), or just a test to see if Kageyama would actually show up, Tsukishima really doesn’t care.

To put it simply, he just doesn’t want to go. Technically, he shouldn’t be _allowed_ to go. Kageyama graciously offered his plus-one to Hinata, of course, and in turn Hinata extended _his_ plus-one to Tsukishima. He’s still trying to piece together this ridiculously stupid decision.

There’s loud yelling to his left, and then a small hand tugging at his wrist, and Tsukishima easily shrugs off Hinata’s poor attempts at man-handling.

“Come on, come on!” Hinata almost trips over himself in a rush to get out the front door, “let’s go already!”

“Slow down idiot, we’re coming.” Kageyama mutters.

He adjusts the strap on his mask, and it snaps back against his head with a satisfying _twang_. Tsukishima stifles a laugh at Kageyama’s pained wince. They haven’t even left the threshold of the front door yet when Kageyama decides to pick back up on an earlier conversation.

“You know, I still think you’re wrong though, about _The Ring_. The sequels were good.”

Tsukishima idly rubs at his eyes underneath his mask, hoping his response of silence is evident enough of a sign to stop talking about this. He adjusts the mask back into place before stepping out the door, Hinata already bounding ahead of him and Kageyama trailing slowly behind. This is going to be _so_ much fun.

Upon stepping into Oikawa’s apartment, Tsukishima instantly notices several things: one, this space is way too small to be hosting a party; two, despite being “ _invitation only_ ”, as Kageyama had said, there’s roughly around thirty people here (or sixty, Tsukishima squints harder but can’t seem to make out the difference), and Tsukishima knows that Oikawa might be popular but _this_ seems like a push; and three, the combination of a tight space plus too many people equals a horrible, sweaty mess. A mess that makes Tsukishima feel as if he’d rather be literally _anywhere_ but here.

He pulls at the collar of his shirt, feeling the heat of the room already weighing down on him, and for a second he considers rolling up his already-short sleeves. His side feels empty, and looking down makes Tsukishima realise that Hinata must have run off at some point. He’s impossible to spot amongst the crowd, being too short to even _barely_ see, but Tsukishima knows that he’s safe. Probably.

Kageyama nudges his shoulder. Tsukishima glances over, a question of “ _what now?_ ” already poised to roll off his tongue, but he stops himself when he notices the figure walking towards them. He doesn’t need his glasses on to recognise the _royal presence_ of Oikawa Tooru himself.

“Tobio-chan!” Oikawa gives a weird, almost _dainty_ wave as he approaches, “how nice to see you here! And did you bring a _date_?”

Oikawa cocks his head slightly as he turns to face Tsukishima, eyes maybe narrowing behind his ornate blue mask, and Tsukishima can’t stop himself from barking out a laugh. A nervous chuckle more than anything else. Kageyama sharply elbows him in the ribs at the same time that Hinata comes barrelling into his other side.

“I’m not his date, _thankfully_ ,” Tsukishima takes the can of beer from Hinata’s outstretched hand, “and I’ll be leaving now. Have fun.”

Hinata yells in protest about his drink while Oikawa scoffs indignantly, but Tsukishima keeps a straight path as he weaves through the mass of bodies to try and find a quieter spot.

He feels suffocated- like he’s _drowning_ in sticky heat- and there’s crowds of strangers everywhere, taking part in standard-fare party tasks like chugging beers and being loud and obnoxious. Tsukishima passes too many people singing and dancing, some standing on chairs and wobbling haphazardly on the top of tables, and he stops for a brief second to watch a guy with questionable hair crush a beer can against his head. The crowd roar in amusement; their boisterous laughs and off-kilter clapping somehow masking the sound of mid-2010’s cheesy pop playing from a couple of shit-quality speakers. _How charming_.

The initial mastermind behind the commotion, the _beer-can-guy_ , turns to his friend (or maybe just an acquaintance, a lost party-goer) and motions for another drink. Tsukishima hesitates for a second as he notices the mask on the second guys face. While no-one here seems to be regarding this event as a _Halloween_ party, not even the host himself, and most people are just using it as an excuse to dress up like they stepped directly out of the 18 th century- _Oikawa_ \- this guy was doing neither. A fancy maneki-neko mask rests perfectly on the top-half of his face, white with gold and red accents, _almost_ distracting from the mess of unruly hair poking out at every possible angle.

People start to disperse after quickly losing interest in the miraculous beer can trick, _truly a death-defying stunt_ , and Tsukishima tears his eyes away from the strange cat mask to spot a slight opening with promise of a clearer area on the other side. He pushes through, ignores the quiet scoffs and muttered complaints from everyone around him, and ends up at a glass door teasing an empty balcony beyond it. _Thank god_. Tsukishima slides the door open and stumbles out into the cold autumn air.  

He almost drops the drink in his hand, forgetting it’s there for a second when the night-time breeze hits him. The light from the moon keeps the balcony well-illuminated, and the sliding glass door separating outside from in actually blocks out a good portion of the generic party noise.

Tsukishima walks over towards the railing, carefully putting his can down on the ground and then leaning forward slightly to peer over the edge. He’s never been one for heights, but right now he can’t tell if his blurry vision is helping or making this way worse. He stands up straight and pushes his mask up to rest just above his forehead, feels it ruffle his bangs slightly, then takes his glasses out of his back pocket and quickly puts them on. _Finally_.

He looks up at the sky and is relieved to see the stars take shape, scattered pieces of constellations being the clearest things he’s seen all night. He pulls a cigarette out of his left pocket and lets it sit between his lips as he fishes around for a lighter. He finds it in his back pocket and lights the smoke, shielding the flame with his free hand so it doesn’t blow out, and then pushes his lighter deep into his pocket to get lost again.

He’s only a few drags in when he hears the door slide open behind him. He tilts his head to the side just enough to see who it could be.

“Oh _shit_ -“ the person trips over the bottom ledge of the doorway, slightly spilling the drink in their hand, and then looks up at Tsukishima.

Tsukishima’s eyes widen in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here.” The guy- _maneki-neko mask guy_ \- says.

He doesn’t seem all that sorry, if the way he drags a plastic lawn chair over to the balcony edge is anything to go by. He kicks his feet up onto the railing, mere inches away from where Tsukishima is leaning, and then slouches back in his chair, beer still in hand. He smiles, lifting his drink as a greeting gesture before taking a sip, and Tsukishima turns away. _Typical_.

He looks back out over the city and soaks in the late-October atmosphere: the bright, almost neon lights of other apartment complexes, maybe hosting their own Halloween events; barren roads, only the occasional car going past every five minutes or so; and burnt-coloured leaves, deep orange and brick red and rusty brown, being carried along by the chilly autumn winds.

He lifts his cigarette to his mouth and hesitates for a second, chancing a glance at his quiet companion. Tsukishima isn’t sure what he expected, but he’s a little taken aback to find the guy already looking at him. It’s hard to tell under the mask but Tsukishima can definitely spot brown- _gold?_ \- eyes staring right back at him.

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow in question, and the guy just shrugs casually. He nods towards the cigarette resting in-between Tsukishima’s fingers.

“Nasty habit.” He says, and then lifts his drink up to his lips to take a slow sip. _Nasty habit_ , Tsukishima notes.

Putting his cigarette back into his mouth, Tsukishima takes an _excessively_ long drag. He keeps his vision locked on the guy, maintaining eye contact as he casually lets the smoke pour out of his mouth and disperse into the air. He flicks the remaining butt of the cigarette off the balcony and down onto the silent streets below.

“Yeah, I know.” He says.

Tsukishima turns around, leaning his back against the railing and now facing the glass door. He stares inside for a while- a few minutes maybe- watching the bustling party and the guests behaving _animalistic_ in a way, until a voice to his left jars him out of his daydream.

“Not wearing your mask? Where’s your party spirit?”

Tsukishima pauses and considers the correct way to talk to a newly-met stranger at a shitty Halloween party who has his face covered with a cat-themed mask. He pulls his own mask off his head and looks down at it in his hands; black and simple, with a subtle lace trim around the edges.

“If you couldn’t tell from my loitering on the balcony,” Tsukishima struggles to fit the mask in his pocket and settles for hanging it around his neck instead, “I don’t exactly want to be here.”

He hears a chair scraping, the grating noise of plastic against concrete, and looks over to find the stranger abandoning his seat (and his beer, on the floor) and sliding over to stand next to Tsukishima at the railing. Tsukishima feels the brush of the guy’s jacket against his bare arms and almost _craves_ the new-found warmth radiating through to his body.

“Well, it’s a good thing that you _are_ here.”

He leaves his statement open-ended, as if awaiting a response, so Tsukishima tilts his head slightly and offers a confused stare. The guy grins.

“You’re pretty _lucky_ to be talking to me.” He lifts his left hand in a beckoning motion, and then points dumbly at his mask after a few seconds of silence.

Tsukishima bites his tongue to stop himself from smiling. It’s not like he finds it funny but, _well_ , slightly entertaining in a stupid way. Like, in a ‘ _that was so bad I can’t believe a real human being actually said it_ ’ kinda way.

“ _Ha ha_ ,” he deadpans, tone completely monotone and expression neutral.

The guy laughs loudly, throwing his head back and letting himself be completely open with his joy. It shows, in the way that his laugh sounds boisterous and authentic, nothing but genuine happiness, translating to a noise that’s not exactly attractive but is somewhat _charming;_ and in the casual way he lets himself relax and his shoulder bumps up against Tsukishima’s, their arms definitely resting side-by-side now. Tsukishima can’t exactly say he _minds_ the touch.

He quiets down eventually, replacing his toothy grin for a smaller smile, something a little _hesitant_ perhaps, and then he pushes himself away from the railing in a single fluid motion.

“Do you want another drink?” He asks.

Tsukishima waits for a second, and whether he wants one or not, he finds himself nodding in response. The stranger simply nods back, offers a quiet “ _I’ll be back in a second_ ”, and then slides open the door just enough to slip through it and disappear back into the party.

He’s gone instantaneously, Tsukishima can’t even see the birds-nest of hair that he’s grown so familiar with in the past- he looks down at his phone- fifteen minutes.

Pushing away from the edge of the balcony, Tsukishima takes a couple steps to reach the house, and then turns to slide down against the wall. He ends up sat on the floor, which is colder than he expected, with his knees brought up tight against his chest in a vain attempt at conserving warmth. He looks up at the sky for a minute or two, killing time by counting the stars and watching the blinking red light of an aircraft travel past slowly.

This is a strange shift in events, Tsukishima thinks: sitting out on Oikawa Tooru’s balcony at eleven p.m. in the cold, waiting for a mysterious stranger, who might be hitting on him, to return with another bottle or can of cheap alcohol. For a party he didn’t even want to attend in the first place, things are going… _not that bad_ , he decides. His companion could be rude, or unpleasant to be around, but overall he seems easy-going and- Tsukishima remembers the weird attempt at flirting- _cheesy_. He supposes being poorly hit-on isn’t the worst thing that could happen at an overly-packed social event full of drunk young adults.

Something _freezing cold_ suddenly presses against his cheek, and Tsukishima almost jumps out of his skin with shock. There’s a soft laugh akin to a giggle coming from his right, and he looks up in time to scowl at the cat-masked stranger before he quickly joins Tsukishima in sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor. Tsukishima ignores his smile and mutters a quiet “ _asshole_ ”, though it’s lacking any conviction and the stranger just sticks his tongue out in response. _Childish_.

With a hushed whisper of “ _thanks_ ”, Tsukishima pops the tab on his can and takes a cautionary sip. It’s… _sweet_. He lifts the drink slightly to inspect the label.

“Strawberry daiquiri,” the stranger’s tone is completely casual, “you seem like a strawberry kinda guy.”

Tsukishima blinks dumbly, trying to think of something to say, but ends up offering a non-committal hum and then takes another, _longer_ sip. He ignores the laugh and quiet comment of “ _knew it_ ”, the tone oddly satisfied, and instead focuses on the heat spreading through to his thigh.

His acquaintance is sitting close enough to him that their legs touch, completely pressed up against each other, and Tsukishima throws all his previous notions of hating physical contact right out the window in favour of some much-needed warmth. He’s only staying close for the heat, and not for any other possible reasons, like the gentle smiles and toothy grins, or the impossibly messy hair that still somehow looks soft enough to play with, or the- _okay_.

Tsukishima looks over, gives his source of heat a casual once-over, taking note of his well-fitting suit and seemingly toned build, and lets out a small sigh. _Alright_. Before admitting that he might- _might_ \- find the masked stranger attractive, he should probably at-least introduce himself, or ask for his name. A name _definitely_ seems like a priority. Tsukishima sits up properly and straightens his legs out in front of him before turning to the right-

“So,” the guy surprises Tsukishima again, already looking at him and interrupting his trail of thought, “why are you even here if you don’t want to be?”

Tsukishima raises his eyebrows, not expecting such a genuine question, and debates an appropriate way to say “ _I was forced to come by some idiotic friends_ ”. Yeah, no, that works fine.

“My friends dragged me here. What’s your excuse, why are you sitting out here instead of enjoying the party?”

“I’m not really one for busy social events,” the guy says, punctuated with a simple shrug of his shoulders despite the honest confession.

He shifts, and a lazy smirk spreads across his face.

“Besides, why would I _possibly_ go inside when I’m out here, talking to the hottest guy at the party?”

Tsukishima feels a new warmth now, burning hot in his cheeks, and he tries not to turn away too fast but he assumes his embarrassment is evident, given the low chuckle he hears in response. The air around him suddenly feels thick and heavy, and Tsukishima is hyper-aware of the leg pressing against his, the foot giving a casual kick against his own.

He takes a deep breath in, tries to keep his cool despite the red-hot burn of his face and the tell-tale fidgeting of his fingers against his can.

“My name’s Tsukishima,” he says, voice steady despite everything, “Tsukishima Kei.”

“ _Well_ , it’s a pleasure to meet you, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima furrows his eyebrows instinctively, a scowl settling across his face at the nickname.

The stranger reaches up towards his mask, deft fingers sliding under the elastic band and pulling the entire thing off in one smooth motion. He drops it into his lap, but Tsukishima doesn’t look at where it ends up, too preoccupied with staring at the newly unmasked face. Any weak insult or blasé comment of “ _don’t call me that_ ” dies instantly on the tip of his tongue, and he knows that he’s probably sat here with his mouth agape, but… _fuck_.

He looks over the sharp eyes, piercing right through him, and that _mouth_ , stretched into an unfairly attractive grin. This _entire thing_ is unfair, really. The dumb jokes and poor attempts at flirting really shouldn’t amass to _this_ face; boyishly handsome, with a strong jawline teasing a preview of faint stubble.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.” The guy- _Kuroo_ \- says. Or, at-least, Tsukishima _thinks_ he spoke. He’s not really listening, in all honesty.

Kuroo ruffles his hair, and Tsukishima finds something weirdly endearing in the contrast of a masculine hand- thick fingers and blunt bitten-down nails- softly shaking through unruly dark hair. His bangs fall down over his right eye, just enough to obscure his vision but not staying in place because of the wind. Tsukishima isn’t sure if he’s thankful or not for the chance to look at Kuroo’s eyes, not when they’re so pretty; dark eyelashes casting dainty shadows onto high cheekbones, the colour of his iris an unexpected blend of hazel and pure gold.

He quirks an eyebrow- a thick, well-defined eyebrow at that- and Tsukishima tries to clear his thoughts.

“I- yeah.” He mentally punches himself. “Nice to meet you, Kuroo.”

Tsukishima couldn’t feel any more flustered, openly staring at a hot guy (who he’s been hanging out with all night) and now fucking up even the simplest of interactions. Kuroo just laughs lightly, a noise which makes Tsukishima work hard to ignore the fluttering in his stomach, and then he leans over slightly to tap his beer bottle against Tsukishima’s can in a toast-like fashion.

Kuroo goes back to drinking, taking a slow sip of his beer ( _cherry cider_ , Tsukishima notices) and then looking out at the city with a small smile on his face. Tsukishima looks down at his own drink, shaking it a little and listening to the liquid splash around inside. He fidgets with the tab while letting himself soak in the comfortable atmosphere, listening to the muffled music and yelling from the party inside. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out here, considers whether Kageyama and Hinata have left or not (probably not, they’d come find him before leaving), but with the feeling of a warm body pressed against his side, Tsukishima definitely doesn’t mind staying out for a little while longer.

He tries not to look over at Kuroo but fails almost immediately and finds himself staring again. He doesn’t have a _crush_ \- Tsukishima wants to laugh at the childish nature of the word- but, objectively, he knows when someone is attractive. Which, _yeah_ , alright, Kuroo is a little more than that. Kuroo is… hot, sure, but he’s also surprisingly friendly and charming and extremely _dorky_. There’s an air of honesty about him, unspoken words conveyed through subtle actions instead. Tsukishima doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol that he’s hardly touched, or perhaps just the liminality of Halloween toying with his emotions, but he can’t help feeling that he wants to get to know Kuroo better.

There’s movement against his leg, an intentional nudge, and Tsukishima instinctively glances down before turning his view up at Kuroo. This time he’s a little more expectant of the gaze he finds waiting for him. He watches Kuroo’s eyes move, slow and purposeful as they travel down Tsukishima’s face, eventually settling on- _oh_. Tsukishima subconsciously licks his lips and tries to pretend he didn’t hear Kuroo’s breath catch in his throat, ignores the small inkling of pride he feels for having this sort of effect on someone. Tsukishima doesn’t miss when Kuroo quickly bites his lip, mostly because he can’t stop looking at _that fucking mouth_ , _holy shit_.

Kuroo shuffles slightly and Tsukishima feels a hand briefly brush past his thigh; he suppresses a shiver and pushes away the thought of just how much he wants that contact. It’s almost like time comes to a stop when Kuroo tilts his head and leans forward an inch. Tsukishima thinks he’s moving in slow motion when he pushes himself to bridge the gap, like this is a scene from a B-list romcom and fireworks are about to start going off any second.

The noise of the sliding-door banging shut startles them both, Kuroo’s eyes widening almost comically and Tsukishima jumping, inadvertently pulling away.

“Kuroo! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, bro!”

A guy stumbles out past the doorway, tall and slightly buff and with questionably dyed hair- _oh my god_. Tsukishima blinks in dumbfounded amazement.

“I’m gonna head home, ‘Kaashi is giving me a ride. Do you want to go-“ _beer-can-guy_ pauses upon noticing Tsukishima, and then grins wide. “Oh. _Nice_.”

Tsukishima flushes, feeling heat instantly rise to his cheeks at the way he was being talked about as if he wasn’t even here. To his side, Kuroo doesn’t look _nearly_ as embarrassed, and after a few seconds of nonverbal communication with his _bro_ , he turns back to look at Tsukishima with a warm smile. He pats Tsukishima’s thigh twice, in a gesture implied to be casual but coming across as softly intimate, and then pushes himself up off the floor.

It takes a second for him to steady himself, his friend chuckling lightly when the offering of a shoulder to lean on goes ignored, and once properly on his feet Kuroo seems to waste no time in extending a hand forward to Tsukishima. _Those hands_. Tsukishima slowly reaches up and eventually places his palm down on Kuroo’s, gasping when he’s tugged upward with a little more energy than he expected. Kuroo is _effortlessly_ strong. It’s distracting.

He forgets that he’s still holding Kuroo’s hand, _technically_ , and so he quickly let’s go to avoid any further embarrassment. Being caught almost kissing someone is one thing, but awkwardly holding onto their hand after they kindly help you up is a separate thing entirely. Kuroo keeps his hand outstretched for a few more seconds before dropping it down and reaching into his back pocket. He turns toward his friend.

“I’ll meet you back inside, Bo. Just gimme a second.”

_Bo_ obnoxiously gives two thumbs up and then spins around. He slides the door open and trips over the frame as he steps back into the party, still bustling with people despite the hours that _might_ have passed. Tsukishima isn’t so sure what the time is anymore. He watches Kuroo pull a thick marker pen out of his pocket- a strange item to bring to a party- and then takes half a step forward to grab Tsukishima’s wrist and gently turn his arm into an appropriate position to start writing.

He only scribbles for a few seconds, five at most, but it feels like an eternity with the soft grip of his fingers around Tsukishima’s wrist and the way he pokes his tongue out slightly as if in deep concentration. Kuroo pulls away and let’s go of Tsukishima’s arm as quickly as he had grabbed it, and then he’s straightening up while returning the pen to his pocket.

“I’ll see you around?” It’s a casual statement, but Kuroo poses it as a hesitant question.

Tsukishima simply nods in response. He fidgets slightly, his hands hanging in front of his body as he twists his fingers together; a subconscious nervous habit that helps to make him feel a _little_ less anxious. Though, Tsukishima knows he has nothing to be anxious about in this moment, not when Kuroo appears equally as antsy.

Kuroo walks backwards and keeps his eyes locked on Tsukishima, forgetting that the door to the house is closed and he suddenly bumps into it with a quiet thud. Tsukishima lets out a laugh instinctively, bringing up his hand to cover his mouth as he continues to giggle at Kuroo’s brief look of confusion. Kuroo only shakes his head, small smile etched on his face, and then slides the door open slowly.

He climbs into the house, long legs taking overly-dramatic steps past the ledge of the doorframe so as not to _trip_ , and walks forward a tiny amount before coming to a hesitant stop. He quickly spins around.

“Hey, Tsukishima?”

“Yeah?”

Kuroo pulls his mask out of his back pocket- _how did that even fit in there_ \- and waves it around obnoxiously.

“I guess you got _lucky_ tonight.” He winks, something Tsukishima wants to repeat on loop in his head forever, and then he’s gone.

He disappears instantly, lost in the sea of bodies after taking just one step. The door slides shut, the bang stirring Tsukishima from his daze and he blinks dumbly at the house for a few seconds as he gathers his bearings.

Tsukishima slowly lifts his arm up and tilts his head to read the messy scrawl of a phone number, _fuck_. Kuroo’s phone number, ten digits signed off with a scribble of his name and a crude drawing of what appears to be a cat. Tsukishima touches the ink lightly, running his fingers across it while considering the possibility of this just being an incredibly vivid dream.

When his fingers come away clean, he can’t stop himself from smiling widely. He pushes his hands deep into his pockets to keep his fidgeting at bay and looks up at the night sky. The stars blink back at him and the moon remains still, unwavering, a comforting presence reminding him that this is _real_.

Tsukishima feels his cheeks begin to ache from grinning, considers how his seven billion reasons of not wanting to come out tonight has turned into _this_ , and he laughs lightly to himself. Maybe he _did_ get lucky after-all.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to talk to me on twitter @[toziercore](https://twitter.com/toziercore)!! <3


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